Not At All The Worst
by Trash-Soro
Summary: A silly little story in which Belle affirms that working as Mr.Gold's maid isn't the worst job and that he's not a monster like everyone else seems to think.


Belle had been working as 's maid for roughly three months now. While admittedly cleaning up after a late 40-something- perhaps early 50-something year old bachelor, pawnbroker and landlord hadn't been the job she had in mind when she'd decided to move to StoryBrooke, Maine, it also wasn't the worst job she could have while waiting for restoration and renovations on the old library building to be completed. Although it seemed the vast majority if not all of the town viewed the man she currently worked under as a monstrous beast with no likeable qualities whatsoever, Belle knew that wasn't necessarily the truth of the matter.

Indeed could be rather rude and mean at times, he could also be quite the opposite when he wanted to be as well. Belle had come to view him as a rather shy and awkward gentleman who put on a mask to get him through the workweek as easily as possible. If the short weeks she'd spent dusting his mantles and wiping his tables as he looked over the bills in his office or serving him evening tea as he curled up in his library with a good book after a long day, Belle had actually found him quite likeable and even considered him enjoyable company from time to time.

Oftentimes, after they'd both had long work-filled days in their own respect, when Belle would serve up the evening tea as her last daily chore, the two of them would discuss literature. Conversation on their favourite authors, comments on whether a story was original or typical, or if the writing was classy or trashy. Sometime arguments all in good fun ruining each other's recent favourites would take place, with smirks plastered on their lips when their playful sides would come out, before he'd offer to drive her to her apartment.

Other times specifically lunch at least once in a work week- usually Mondays and sometimes Thursdays, Belle had noted- when would forget to pack himself a lunch and Belle would receive a text from him asking her to bring him his usual from Granny's so he wouldn't have to pay extra for pickles under the restaurant owners glare, Belle would. And when she'd get there they'd spend his hour long lunch break speaking of some of the antiques housed on the shop shelves. She'd sometimes tease him asking if a certain piece was as old as him when she knew for a fact it was several decades older than her boss. He usually got a little annoyed and would then dismiss her by telling her what kind of tea he'd like that evening, but Belle knew that he wasn't truly upset by her comments.

Belle knew the man had his secrets as well, and whether he decided to share them with her or not, she respected them. She knew some stuff the town didn't, like what truly happened to his wife and son, and she didn't judge him on it. They'd both simply left him after their own respective disagreements and he hadn't murdered them like some people strangely suspected. But the stuff only he knew she respected as well and didn't badger for answers. Even though she often wondered what exactly he kept locked in a chest under the upstairs bathroom sink, or what he now kept locked behind his son's old bedroom door where she was told not to venture, she left his reasons his and went on with her day without question.

Today however was different than what she was used to. Her boss was taking a sick day as it appeared he'd come home with a cold after last nights unexpected drop in temperatures, and he was quite grumpy about it. The day before had started off a beautiful autumn day, where the sky was pink while the sun rose in the morning and the breeze had been light and refreshing as leaves twirled almost magically through the air after being plucked from their branches and had decided to leave the Cadillac at home and walk to the shop that morning. However by closing time the weather had changed drastically to pouring rain and a chilly 40 degrees that 's light coat and lack of umbrella couldn't fight. Though his comment of 'I think one of these days I should teach you how to drive the Caddie...' as he entered the victorian dripping and shivering had been quite funny at the time, it wasn't much so now.

Luckily Belle was simply instructed to go through her usual Wednesday routine rather than care for the grumpily sick man all day, but it was still quite stressing to know he was in the building and could be watching her at any time. She found herself glad it appeared he preferred to stay in bed when he was was ill. Though out of politeness she had brought him some tea and soup at lunch and noted he did seem less grumpy. It appeared was already getting better and acting more like himself.

All was fine, well, and the same as any other Wednesday for her after that, she'd almost forgotten anything was different until it came time that she'd usually clean the bathrooms at 4pm. After scrubbing the downstairs one to a sparkle she headed upstairs with her supplies to find the door closed- something that was unusual as Mr. Gold specifically kept the bathroom doors one quarter of the way open if unoccupied. She'd walked away from it to dust the hallway shelves first figuring her boss had simply gotten up to empty his bladder, however ten minutes later Belle found herself knocking politely on the still-closed door in wonder.

" ?" She'd called "Are you in there?"

"Yes." Came a short gruff response from inside.

"Oh.." She fidgeted her fingers in anticipation for a further response but when one didn't come she asked "Are you alright? You've been in there a while..."

She heard him sigh "Yes- Well I'm in the bath." There was a small splash to confirm his claim and swore she heard the man giggle- not chuckle- but giggle before clearing his throat and adding "Why do you ask?"

Brow raised in slight wonder as to how the man could forget his own scheduling she replied. "You've scheduled me to clean the bathrooms at this time. I've already done the other."

He was silent for a long moment before he squeaked out a "Right..." he once again cleared his throat and said "Well come in then. You can clean the rest of the room and I'll rinse the tub myself when I'm done."

Confused she rushingly asked him "Are you sure you're comfortable with that? you can't possibly be decent in the bath..."

"You won't see a thing, I can promise you that, if that's what concerns you." He responds and there's a couple other little splashes.

With a deep breath Belle looks from the door to the cleaning supplies and nods to herself. If her boss wanted her tho clean the bathroom still, she should probably do it. "Alright... if you're positive."

She turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly. She stepped inside, closing the door behind herself and froze in place when her eyes fell on the tub. She'd expected to walk in and see , a respectable grown man in a hot bath, water clear and a damp towel laid across his hips to prevent her from seeing what she shouldn't- Not , a respectable grown man in a toasty overly-bubbly bubble bath with at least 20 rubber ducks in a variety of colours, giggling like an imp as a golden yellow one on top of his head fell off and splashed into the water over his chest. So that's what he kept locked in the chest under the sink... two dozen rubber ducks and an assortment of bubblebaths. Very unexpected.

She locked eyes with her boss and rose a questioning brow at him as a small smile tugged at her lips. "Duckies?" She asked

He smirked at her as he nodded slowly. "And nobody will ever believe you, Dearie."

She stared a moment longer and concluded he was right, nobody would ever believe that the infamous , feared landlord and the like, took bubblebaths and played rubber ducks on his sick-days. She nodded and turned towards the sink to start cleaning it. "Right then. Don't mind me."

She watched in the mirror as he picked up a light blue duck and placed it on his head before starting to sing in that silly impish-childlike voice she'd heard once before while he'd been telling her a story of his son, a fun-sounding song Belle vaguely remembered her parents playing in her early childhood. "Yo-ho-ho, and a thousand trucks, Gonna take a bath with a rubber duck! Yo-ho-ho, and a 'lots of luck, 'Round the world with a Rubber Ducky!" The toy fell off his head and made a little splash and he giggled once again.

Belle couldn't help but smile as she scrubbed at the sink with a sponge. Yeah, this certainly wasn't the worst job she could have, and was definitely not the monster he seemed to be. She knew this for a fact.


End file.
